Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(96)

“What did Papa do wrong?” It’s not a question but an accusation. Sophie has learned to be careful around her sister, a true believer.

“Nothing,” Sophie says. “Go get in bed. I’ll come read you a story.”

“He must’ve done something,” Liesl says, trudging off to bed.

The next morning, Sophie’s mother wakes the girls early. Fritz is already dressed in a little traveling coat. “We’re going to stay with Auntie Annalise.”

Lieselotte rubs sleep from her eyes. “Why? For how long?”

“Don’t you want to see your cousins? It will be fun,” their mother says. Her eyes are strained and tired. She hands Fritz to Sophie and pulls out the suitcase from under the bed. “Sophie. Hurry, please. Our train leaves at nine thirty.”

Lieselotte pulls a sweater over her unruly head. “What about Papa? Isn’t he coming?”

Her father stands in the hallway, arms loose at his sides, watching.

“Papa must stay and look after the shop. Come. Put on your shoes.”

Sophie understands that they are not coming back until after the war is over. She will be torn from Hanna and Karl and Die Eichel. “I’ll stay and help Papa in the shop. He’ll need looking after,” Sophie says.

“I need you to help with the baby and Lotte,” her mother says.

“But you’ll have Auntie Annalise and all of the cousins.”

“You must go with your mother, Sophie,” her father says, and takes the suitcase downstairs.



* * *



The stationmaster calls final boarding. In the train compartment, Fritz’s irritable fussing is building to a full wail. “Shhh, Liebchen. There, there.” Sophie’s mother nestles the baby in for a nursing and he calms. “This one is so impatient.”

Sophie peers out at the town just waking. The cobblestone streets. The little thatched houses. The graceful slope of the hills. The strong profile of the castle across the bridge. She thinks of never kissing Karl under that bridge again. She thinks of the signatures that will not make it onto the passports and the children who will not be saved. She thinks of leaving Hanna and it’s more than she can bear.

Lieselotte flicks her finger against the train window in a nerve-scraping off-rhythm. “I want to be with my friends in the Jungm?delbund.”

“You’ll have fun with your cousins,” their mother says, shutting her eyes.

“No I won’t,” Liesl grouses.

Sophie kisses her sister’s forehead. “You must be very brave, Liesl. Help Mama with Fritz.” Sophie rises. She kisses her mother, who smiles without opening her eyes. Sophie looks at her mother, sister, and brother. Remember this, she thinks. The train has just begun its slow, juddery progression when Sophie makes her choice. She grabs her suitcase and bursts from their compartment, running past the flummoxed conductor calling, “Fr?ulein! Fr?ulein! Take your seat, please!” She leaps onto the platform, staggering, falls in a bruised heap.

Just ahead, her mother struggles the window up. “Sophie! Oh, Sophie!”

Sophie stands and dusts herself off. “I’m sorry, Mama! Forgive me!” She presses her gloved hand to her lips and sends the imaginary kiss out onto the wind as her mother’s face disappears into a long tail of black mist.

Sophie walks up the hill to Wilhelmstrasse. The suitcase is heavy in her hands as she climbs the stairs to the attic. The garret is cold; winter waits around the corner. She lights a fire in the stove and only once it takes hold does she let herself cry. After, she blots her eyes and blows her nose into a scrap of paper. She throws the evidence of her sadness into the flames and gets back to work.



* * *



Though it is mid-October, summer has returned for a last brilliant bow. The sun is high and a warm breeze wafts through leaves edged in gold. It’s a Sunday, a day to be seen, and Hanna suggests a picnic by the Bridegroom’s Oak.

“Do you think that’s wise? Taking the others there?” Leon asks.

“Don’t you see? It makes it seem as if it’s nothing more than our favorite picnic spot.”

It’s a group of them—Hanna and Sophie, Karl and Leon, but also Oskar, Werner, Klara and Lotte, Ilse, Gerda, and Hedy. Egon stays behind to work.

“I do not fraternize with Nazis,” he says. He grips Hanna’s hand on her way out. “Careful, Liebchen?”

Under the tree, the girls pass around an issue of Frauen Warte. There’s an article on the Brides and Housewives School at Husb?ke in Oldenburg where German girls are taught the art of being perfect Haus Frauen. It’s pages of smiling women in traditional dress arranging flowers, tending small gardens, knitting and sewing, and learning to care for children.

“It costs one hundred thirty-five reichsmarks to go,” Hedy sighs. “A fortune!”

“Still. It would be worth it to land a quality husband like Herr Jaeger,” Klara says. She stretches out her legs to admire their shapeliness. The boys have gone off for a run, leaving them to speak freely. “You’re so lucky, Hanna. Oskar loves you even though you won’t make a very suitable wife.”

“Thank you very much,” Hanna says. She takes the magazine and uses it to fan herself until Hedy gasps—“Hey!”—and grabs it back.

“I don’t mean to be insulting but it’s the truth,” Klara adds.